THERE was no wind, and the night was very still, when Appleby lay aching
in every limb behind an aloe hedge which cut off the dim white road.
Harper sat on the steaming earth close beside him contemplatively
munching the end of a cigar, for smoking was distinctly inadvisable just
then, and he was in need of something to stay the pangs of hunger. Here
and there a dusky figure showed among the leaves, and now and then a low
murmur or a soft rustling rose from the black shadow of the overhanging
palms; but the scarcely audible sound sank once more into the silence,
and a muleteer had just passed along the dusty road apparently without
the faintest suspicion that rather more than a hundred famishing men had
watched him with fingers tightening on their rifle barrels. He saw and
heard nothing, which was fortunate for him, and now his voice and the
tramp of his team came back faintly across the cane.
The dew was heavy, as it usually is in the tropics when a clear, still
night follows a day of scorching heat, and Appleby could have wrung it
from the garments he had borrowed from the Alcalde's wardrobe at Santa
Marta. That, however, did not trouble him, for they rested with a
pleasant coolness upon his sun-scorched skin; and he was mainly
conscious of a sense of emptiness and a distressful stitch in his side
as he watched the strip of road. It wound out from the inky shadows of
the palms, led by the hedge of aloes, and was lost again in the cane
that stretched away, a dim sweep of dusky green, under the moon. It was
at least a week since he had had an adequate meal, and he had passed
that day crawling through a mangrove swamp, where pits of foul black
mire lay beneath the great slimy roots.
Haste and concealment had, however, appeared advisable to the Sin
Verguenza; for their success at Santa Marta had brought two strong
battalions upon their trail, and Morales had decreed their
extermination. Cut off from the hills, they had taken to a belt of
reeking mangrove swamps, and Morales, who was too wise to venture his
raw troops in those dim haunts of fever, had persistently drawn his net
tighter about them. They had accordingly divided when supplies ran out,
and the Captain Maccario, who did not know whether the rest had
succeeded in breaking through, had halted those who remained with him to
wait until the moon sank before making a dash for another tract of
jungle. They were, indeed, almost too weary to drag themselves any
further just then, and their leader had reason for believing there was a
company of cazadores somewhere upon the road.
He lay a little apart from Appleby, and raised his head so that the
moonlight shone into his face, which showed intent and anxious, when a
palm frond rustled behind them. There was nothing astonishing in this,
but when the rustle repeated itself it seemed to Appleby that there was
something curiously persistent in the sound. He glanced at the Spaniard,
who saw him, and raised one hand as if in warning. The sound ceased, and
there was once more an impressive silence, which lasted for some
minutes. Then Appleby felt Harper's hand upon his shoulder.
"Look!" he said in a hoarse whisper, and his comrade set his lips as he
turned his head.
A man who had appeared without a sound stood in the white road, his
rigid figure forced up sharp and black against it, and it was evident
that he was peering about him. Then, with a swiftness that had its
significance, he slipped back into the shadow, and moved through it,
stopping a second or two now and then as though to listen. Appleby could
just see him, and felt a little shiver run through him, for he knew the
loyalist scout was running a horrible risk. He hoped the man would see
nothing, for the last thing the Sin Verguenza desired was to chance a
rifle shot just then. He, however, came on, treading softly and stooping
as though to observe the dew-clogged dust, until he stopped again where
a little pathway led in among the aloes.
Then he straightened himself, looked behind him, and turning his head
stared into the shadow of the palms that lay black and impenetrable
beyond the aloes, while the moonlight shone down into his face. It
showed white and set against the dusky background; and Appleby, who
could see the intent eyes, held his breath, for he knew the man's life
hung trembling in the balance. One step would take him to his death, for
another face that was drawn and haggard and had the stamp of hunger on
it showed amidst the leaves behind him. The suspense lasted for a space
of seconds, and Appleby felt himself quivering under the tension, until
the man made a sudden movement as though something suspicious had caught
his eyes. Then there was a rustle of leaves, a shadowy form sprang, and
the scout went down; while Appleby, who saw a flash in the moonlight,
turned his head away. He heard a strangled groan and a struggling amidst
the leaves, and then there was once more an impressive silence.
"Two dollars, senor!" said a dusky man breathlessly, as he came up to
the Captain Maccario; and the Spaniard made a curious little gesture as
he glanced at Appleby.
"You can keep them. Drag him away!" he said in Castilian. "It is the
fortune of war, Don Bernardino!"
Appleby said nothing, but Harper turned to the officer. "The troops will
not be far behind," he said. "Will we get through?"
Maccario shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows?" he said. "It is certain
the cazadores come, but if they march past us the road is open. It is by
misfortune we do not know how many there are of them."
"Where are we going if we do get through?" asked Harper.
Maccario stretching out a brown hand swept it vaguely round the horizon.
"Here and there and everywhere. The Sin Verguenza will vanish until they
are wanted again. There are too many troops in this country, and it is
not difficult to find a hundred men when they are together; but it is
different when you chase them one by one. So Morales stamps out the
insurrection, and when he sends half his troops away we come back
again."
"It is not very evident how we are going to live in the meanwhile," said
Appleby dryly.
Maccario laughed. "What is mine is my friend's, and there is a poor
house at your service. One could reach it in a week's march, and once
there we are short of nothing. This is, you understand, a grateful
country."
There was light enough for Appleby to see the roguish twinkle in the
Spaniard's dark eyes, and he shook his head. "No," he said. "While I
fought with the Sin Verguenza I lived as they did, but it would not suit
me to lie idle and levy contributions upon the country."
"Well," said Maccario reflectively, "in the meanwhile you come with me,
and we may, perhaps, find means of sending you back to the sea. Just now
I do not know whether any of us will get very far. We have two leagues
to make by the carretera before we find cover, and there are cazadores
on the road; while the Captain Vincente will be upon us by daylight if
we stay here."
The others understood as much already, and it was because they did not
know exactly where the cazadores were they were lying there. It was also
a somewhat important question, and they lay still waiting for an answer
until a faintly rhythmic sound came out of the silence. It sank beyond
hearing, but rose again, a trifle louder; and Appleby's heart throbbed
as he recognized the tramp of marching men, while a half-articulate
sound rose from the Sin Verguenza. They were hungry and very weary, and
starvation waited them if they crawled back into the swamps; while the
road that led to safety was closed by the troops. It was, however,
evident that their leader knew his business, and Appleby fancied that if
the detachment was not a strong one they might still break through.
In the meanwhile the rhythmic tramp was steadily growing louder, and he
could tell by the stirring of those about him that they were waiting in
strained expectancy, until there was a patter of footsteps, and a man
came running down the road. He flung himself down gasping beside
Maccario, and his voice was breathless as he said, "It is one company
only."
"Good!" said Maccario dryly. "If they see nothing it is also well. Then
the road will be open from here to Adeje. On the other hand, if they
have good eyes it is unfortunate for them."
There was a faint rattle and clicking as the men fidgeted with magazine
slide, or snapped open breaches to make sure that a cartridge lay in the
chamber. Then an impressive silence followed, which seemed to grow more
intense as the tramp of marching men came ringing sharply down the dim
white road. Perhaps the officer who led them trusted to the scout who
would never bring him a warning back again, or had lately arrived from
Spain, and did not know that the man who sought the Sin Verguenza was
apt to find them where he least expected. Then a faintly musical
jingling and the rattle of wheels became audible too, and Appleby shook
his weariness from him as, with the dust rolling about them, dim figures
swung into sight round a bend of the road. The carretera was a broad
one, and they appeared to be marching carelessly in open fours, for
laughter and the hum of voices came out of the dust.
Raising his head a little he glanced behind him, but the Sin Verguenza
were ominously still and silent now, and he could only see Maccario's
shoulder, and in places a glint of metal where the moonlight sifted
down. Again a quiver ran through him, and his heart thumped painfully as
he watched the men below through the openings between the aloes. Then he
set his lips and grappled with an almost uncontrollable desire to cry
out and warn them. He had been hunted by them, and had seen their
handiwork in the ashes of burnt aldeas that had given his comrades
shelter; but for that Morales was responsible, and the men were for the
most part conscripts reft from their homes in Spain, and going with
laughter on their lips to their doom. The Sin Verguenza struck at night,
in silence, and were seldom contented with a strategetical victory.
Still, because the rattle of riflery carries far, they held their hand
while several loose fours shuffling through the dust went by, and
Appleby felt a trifle easier.
Then there was another space of waiting before the dust that had
commenced to sift down grew thicker again as the head of the company
swung round the bend. They were also marching easily with gaps between
the files, and the jingle of sling, swivel, scabbard, and canteen rang
through their trampling, while the rifles twinkled as the fours swung
across the breadths of moonlight between the shadows of the palms. They
were young men, most of them, and some little more than boys; while here
and there one or two, still unprovided with tropical outfit, wore the
kepi and the cazadores, green; but Appleby had seen the men of the
Peninsula fight before, and checked a groan. He was one of the Sin
Verguenza, and knew what awaited him if Morales was successful, but the
work on hand seemed horrible to him just then.
The tension grew almost insupportable, when one of the soldiers who had
a clear voice started the "Campanadas," and the refrain, that spoke of
grapes and kisses, rolled from four to four. Melodious as it was it
seemed to jar with a horrible discordance upon the silence. Still, there
was a chance that the troops might pass unscathed yet if their officers
saw nothing, and it was with tingling nerves Appleby watched the fours
swing by. Half the company had passed him now.
Then there was a shout from one of the leading fours, and a sharp order,
while a man came running along the line; and the files in front of
Appleby stood still looking about them. He felt his eyes grow dim, and
his fingers quiver on the rifle stock, while his heart throbbed
painfully. Then a mounted officer appeared, apparently on a mule; there
was another order, though Appleby had no notion what it was, and while
the feet commenced to shuffle Maccario cried out.
Appleby felt the rifle butt jar on his shoulder and the barrel jump in
his hand, but saw nothing for a moment beyond wisps of drifting smoke.
It hung about the aloes and obscured the road, but cries and execrations
and orders came out of it, until the rifles of the Sin Verguenza flashed
again. What happened to the cazadores was not apparent then, but it was
evident that some at least survived, for there was a rush of feet in the
smoke, and men with bayonets plunged in among the aloes. They failed to
force a passage through the horrible spines, and another blast of
riflery met them in the face as they floundered and rent themselves.
They had done what men could do, for it was usually a leader's blunder
that involved the troops of Spain in defeat, but no flesh and blood
unsheltered could face that withering fire, and some went down among the
aloes, while the rest flung themselves upon the murderous rifles.
Then the Sin Verguenza came out from their lair, and Appleby swung his
hat off as he ran with a mob of ragged men behind him towards a slim,
white-clad officer who was standing in the road. It was in Castilian he
shouted, but a bitter laugh and the flash of a pistol answered him, and
there was a glint of steel as half-seen men rallied about their leader.
The rifles, however, flashed again, and the cluster of cazadores melted
away as the Sin Verguenza poured out into the road. Appleby sprang over
the fallen officer, and stood still gasping and conscious for the first
time that his foot was paining him. Shadowy men were flying round the
bend of the road but there were, so far as he could see, very few of
them; while the glance he cast round him showed what had happened to the
rest.
"It doesn't look nice," said Harper, who appeared at his side. "Still,
there's a mule team down, and I'm kind of anxious to find out if they
brought anything to eat along."
He disappeared again, and Appleby circumspectly took off one of the
Alcalde of Santa Marta's shoes. His foot felt hot, and the patches of
stocking that clung about it were saturated, but the light was too dim
to show him exactly where it was injured; so he shook the moisture from
the shoe through a place where the stitches had parted and put it on
again, and was standing stiffly with his weight on one leg when Maccario
came by.
"You have five minutes to look for anything you may have a fancy for
in," he said. "There is, however, it seems, a lamentable scarcity of
pesetas among the troops of Spain."
Appleby turned from him with a little gesture of disgust, and Maccario,
who shrugged his shoulders, went away again. But the Sin Verguenza were
expeditious, and within ten minutes had grouped themselves, with bulging
pockets and haversacks made for other men, in straggling fours. Then the
word was given, and they swung away at the best pace they could compass
down the carretera. It cost Appleby an effort to limp along with his
half company, but he managed it for a time, and nobody except Harper
seemed to notice when he lagged behind. Then when they were straggling
behind the rearmost files those in front halted as a man came up, and a
murmur ran along the line.
"Morales with four companies!" said somebody. "Marching by the Adeje
cross-road. If they are not deaf, those cazadores, they have heard the
firing!"
"Forward!" Maccario's voice came back. "With Vincente behind us there
will be masses needed if we do not pass the Adeje road before Morales."
Then the pace grew faster, and Appleby dropped farther behind, with
Harper hanging resolutely at his side. There was very little discipline
among the Sin Verguenza at any time, and every man's first care was to
save his own neck just then. So little by little the distance grew
greater between them and the two lonely men, until when the last of them
swept round a bend Appleby stopped altogether and looked at Harper.
"I can't go any farther on one foot. Push on," he said.
Harper laughed a little. "I've a stitch in my side myself, and this kind
of gallop takes it out of one. I feel kind of tired of the Sin Verguenza
after to-night's work, anyway."